by CF Frizzell
“Tide’s in.”
Hank chortled as he patted her back. “Good thing for you. Less far to fall.”
“I’m good,” she said with a chuckle and maneuvered over the side and onto the pier. The air had cleared some of the fog in her head, too, enough to let her appreciate that the walkway beneath her barely moved.
“It’s still early, you know.”
“Not for you, it ain’t.”
“Perfect night for a cruise. I could handle this.”
“Probably, but don’t waste the fuel. Hit the sack.”
“Hey, Hank. Ah…”
“Yeah. You’re welcome. Now, I’m watchin’, so get aboard—and stay put.”
She kept a guarded eye on the pier, glad when she finally dropped into a deck chair on the Rose. The evening mist had dampened everything and she squirmed when the wetness seeped through the seat of her pants.
“Aw shit.” She leaned forward and rubbed her face with both hands, trying to revive more clarity in her senses. “You’re right again, Hank. Stupid.” She stood, pleased she didn’t stagger, and took a moment to survey the world around her.
Many boats were absent, having gone out early this morning to beat the fog, and stayed out. Some would show up after sunrise; one or two might arrive tonight. If they were lucky, those arrivals made “last call” at the bars, but then would roust her out of a sound sleep, bumbling like drunken pirates back to their boats. With a fond smile, she remembered the first time they woke Maggie, startled her out of a warm embrace, and Retta announced what she’d heard. The pirates had barked back. But even when the breeze offered notes from a band at the RC, as it did just a moment ago, Ellis knew the occasional noise would never send her in search of quieter confines. How can you just pack up and go?
She turned and sighed. “Where else would you find this?” Gazing across the harbor, she saw the glistening blue of summer, the angry, churning gray of storms, and the blinding white of winter, frozen silent. And now a glossy black in the late-summer twilight, the expanse showcased the venerable Brant Point and Great Point watchdogs at their finest. With their brilliant, regulated reminders, safeguarding those who passed and those who harbored here, the lighthouses exemplified the staunch, unflappable nature of every islander.
She almost shuddered at how unlike them she currently felt. So much for unflappable. Newcomers fascinated by the size, intrigued by the purpose, took photographs as souvenirs but never saw the lighthouses for the monuments they were. She’d drawn strength from them many times over the years, and realized how much she needed their reinforcement now.
Times like this, we lose sight of what matters, she thought, heading below to change. “Lose a little faith in ourselves, right along with it.” Proud that she’d made it all the way to her bed without the slightest sidestep, she cast off a shiver and let the close, warm quarters embrace her.
“Newcomers never really get it,” she muttered, changing into dry shorts, “but I believed in you, Maggie. I believed you would.”
She took a bottle of water from the fridge and, out of habit, turned on the radio for the marine forecast. The prediction of a gorgeous Monday made her click the radio off with a hard twist.
“Damn it.” She started up the stairs. “Figures, weather improves for a workday.” She pulled a towel from a cabinet in the upper saloon and dried her chair but then decided to dry the seat at the helm. She hadn’t been on the bridge for one minute before impulse took control.
She turned the key, and both engines rumbled to life. Needles on her gauges climbed to their proper positions, and suddenly she was on the pier, tossing lines aboard. She gave the Rose a healthy shove and jumped on.
At the helm as the Rose drifted, she thought she heard Hank yelling. She’d heard enough from him, knew she wouldn’t be pleasing him on this night and, stubbornly, didn’t look back. But she’d just nosed the bow outward when she heard urgent barking, and for that she did glance over her shoulder. Retta shuffled restlessly on the walkway, panting, tail wagging, and snapped off another bark.
Yes, I see you, too, pretty girl. Do NOT dive in. Where’s your pretty mom?
Maggie heard the engines before she saw the Rose some thirty feet out, and ran to Retta’s side, waving a hand for Ellis to stop. It chilled her to think Ellis might not.
But her fear eased when the engines’ volume lowered. They rose again to a moderate level as Ellis backed up, then angled toward the slip. Maggie called out over the noise.
“Permission to come aboard, Captain?”
She heard no response, but Ellis continued in reverse, steering deftly while looking back.
Retta stomped in place, then began pacing along the pier. Insistent, she barked repeatedly as the Rose neared, and Maggie had to give her credit. Whatever the hell you think you’re doing, Ellis, avoiding me like this, you deserve to be yelled at.
The engines fell into an idle drone, and the moment the Rose bumped the dock, Ellis set the step-box onto the walkway. Retta didn’t wait for the little landing to be unfolded. She ran up the two steps and leaped over the side.
“Jesus!” Ellis said.
Maggie gasped. “Retta! You’ll be the death of me!”
Ellis offered her hand to Maggie. “Quick, before we drift,” she said in a crisp tone. “Don’t think. I’ve got you.”
Maggie took a breath and, on Ellis’s pull, made the little jump onto the deck. “Well! Hi.”
“Hi,” Ellis said and backed away a step. “This is a surprise. Have a seat.” She busied herself drying another chair.
Maggie placed a hand on her shoulder. “Where are you going?”
Ellis straightened and eyed the dock warily. Maggie knew Ellis didn’t approve of the Rose bobbing freely so close to the pier, and understood when Ellis only spared her a glance.
“Going? Just…out.”
“Would you mind some company?”
Ellis’s hesitation worried her. They both had a lot to discuss, and going off in separate directions wouldn’t accomplish anything. Maggie made the decision for both of them.
“I’m not here to intrude on your privacy, Ellis. I’m here because…because I need to be. I want to be, and I think you want that, too.” Ellis looked back at the dock, now some ten feet away, and Maggie turned her chin with a fingertip. “Please correct me if I’m wrong.”
“You’re not wrong. We have to talk.”
“Oh, we certainly do.”
*****
Ellis searched her eyes in the poor light and Maggie knew the all-too familiar, beseeching look. She remembered being held by it on the steps, right here during the wedding party cruise. As then, she wondered if Ellis saw the honesty and genuine affection being offered.
Ellis stepped toward the rail. “I should…ah…” She wavered in an uncharacteristic move, seemed to change her mind, and headed for the stairs. “Grab a seat.” She went up to the bridge as Maggie watched from below.
Retta scrabbled up from Ellis’s quarters carrying a half-mauled bone she’d obviously stowed away and settled at Maggie’s feet. “You’ve made yourself quite at home, haven’t you?” She reached down and stroked her side, then sat back heavily. “Guess that’s the elephant in the room tonight. Home.”
On the bridge, Ellis appeared occupied as usual, but Maggie ached to engage her in conversation. She hoped Ellis had some particular patch of ocean in mind, and once there, they would get down to the business of “them.”
With slips and moorings behind, the Rose picked up speed, and Maggie retied her hair back. The warmth of the air rushing over her body seemed out of sync with the calendar, she mused, with daylight gone much sooner near the close of August. The striped sky and changing wind had made dusk one of her favorite times of day, but this fading twilight just might have stolen her heart. She thought it curious, relating to the elements like never before, and suddenly attributed it to being so close to them, literally, surrounded by water, wind, and sky, and being grounded by this island.
; She looked back at the gaily lit wharves and Nantucket Town, and hoped tourists took the time to really see it all. Out here, as Ellis wove out of the harbor, vacationing traffic amounted only to a handful of small luxury craft—the Rose an imposing presence among them—and Maggie enjoyed having so much of this ocean to themselves.
She relished the close-up view of Brant Point Light, and remembered first seeing it more than a year ago from the Eagle. You were probably on board that day, and no doubt our paths crossed. I want them entwined, Ellis. For good. But we have to get through this rough patch, this…fog of ours, first.
Just as she rose, intent on persuading Ellis to stop, the engines slowed.
“I really wasn’t going to Europe or anything,” Ellis said from the controls, and the touch of humor had Maggie hoping an easy exchange lay ahead. You are truly at ease out here, aren’t you?
Hands on the railings, Ellis slid down the steps again.
“I have to practice that,” Maggie said, and prayed that by the end of their conversation, she’d still be welcome. “So much easier than taking one step at a time.”
“The ladders are narrow and steep, you’re right. The saloon stairs aren’t quite so bad, but I’m still impressed by Retta’s dexterity.” She went into the saloon and rummaged through the cooler. “Sam Adams and water. Poor selection, I’m sorry. The serious alcohol is below, if you’d prefer.”
“A beer sounds great. Thank you.” Ellis handed her the Sam Adams and sat down with a bottle of water. “You’re making me drink alone?”
“I-I had my share earlier. Stopped just in time.”
“I see.” For you, drinking to that point so early in the evening says a lot. “Ellis.” Maggie covered Ellis’s hand on the arm of her chair. “It feels as if we haven’t spoken in days…and we’re way behind.”
“Very true.” Ellis nodded. “I know things come up. You have a business to run, Maggie. I understand.”
Maggie leaned forward and shook her head. “No, don’t do that. Please don’t. Don’t be such a sweetheart if you’re really pissed as hell. I-I think I would be, if I were in your shoes.”
“Oh, I was just getting started, Maggie. I do understand the trials of business. What I don’t understand has nothing to do with that. I’m confused by all the emotions in play, crashing together.”
“I can only imagine, and I’m so sorry.” Maggie gripped the neck of her beer bottle so hard she told herself to back off before it broke. God, I asked for this.
“Being confused just enflames anger, you know?” Ellis said. “But I’m beyond anger now. Almost beyond blaming myself…maybe. Two hours on the beach earlier helped.” Ellis pulled her chair around to face her. “Now it’s just the hurt I have to handle. So I’m sucking it up right now, ready and willing to hear what you have to say.”
“Ellis, I should have leveled with you right from the start. It was so wrong not to, and I apologize, truly. It was a huge mistake, but at the time, I was afraid of how this island, how you would receive me, and selfishly, I thought it wise to stay under everyone’s radar. I’ve experienced the consequences of being unwelcome, and it was a horrendous time for me. I wanted to be successful—”
“Before anyone found out you were just here for the money. Because that’s what flippers do, don’t they? They hit and run, don’t give a—”
“You see? That’s the automatic reaction I tried to avoid. My work is high-end, Ellis, not roughshod hit-and-run. Every establishment I’ve produced is a success today, a relevant member of its community, and that’s years of diligence and honest, quality work. I wanted nothing less with Tuck’r. I learned,” she met Ellis’s keen look evenly, “that you islanders are a tough bunch, and that made me determined to succeed.”
“I helped you.”
“You did. I’ve shared all the numbers with you.”
“And Jill McGee can’t wait to hand over the cash so you can find her the next flip.”
“Stop.” Maggie got to her feet and took a long drink of her beer. “Christ.” She turned back. “Please just listen? I don’t want us harping at each other.”
Ellis ran a hand through her hair, and Maggie dismissed a desperate urge to hug her. Please don’t rush to conclusions.
“Okay. Listening,” Ellis said, her look hardened with apprehension. “My conversation with Jill was an eye-opener, Maggie, and that’s being kind. How was I supposed to react to that?”
“Jesus, I know.” She hurried back to her seat and put the bottle on the deck. “Look, she had no—”
“How am I supposed to feel when I find you’ve only come here to flip my house to some corporation—and now you’re going to Tex—”
“Shh. I’m not.” Maggie shook her head and took Ellis’s hand. “Please let me explain.” She rubbed her thumbs over the back of Ellis’s hand. “I’m not going to Texas. I’m not working for or with Jill McGee or Cavanaugh.”
“That’s the exact opposite of what she led me to believe.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “God, I could frigging strangle that woman. Forget everything she said, Ellis. I’m telling you what I should have told you months ago, plus…some things that are…kind of new.” She gathered her composure and offered Ellis a hopeful look. “Yes, I came here to turn the Captain Pratt House into a vital, successful B&B. Yes, people who are unfamiliar with the difference call my turnarounds ‘flips,’ but I believe mine are higher-end. Nevertheless, locals don’t always welcome outsiders. Sometimes they run you out of town. They’ll even burn you out, and I encountered that in Nevada. So when I learned how…territorial Nantucketters really were, I was afraid, and decided to keep everything quiet.”
She combed Ellis’s hair back from her forehead. “But I never expected to end up with the house of my dreams. Or in a place out of a storybook. Or so in love, I’d give her my heart if she’d have it.”
The tension in Ellis’s face softened, replaced by a look of disbelief.
“You’re serious?” She stood and drew Maggie up close. “Something this big can happen so fast and still be real?” Maggie dared believe she’d been forgiven. “I love you, Maggie. And I know it’s real for me.”
Maggie pressed her lips to Ellis’s, lost herself in the feel of her mouth, the hands and arms holding her, the chest and torso melded to hers. This is exactly where I need to be.
“And I love you. It is wildly fast, isn’t it? But so real for me, too. I want you, only you.”
Ellis lowered her face to Maggie’s neck. “Jesus, Maggie. I want to be good enough for you. I’ll never fail you, I swear. Say you’ll stay.”
Maggie raised Ellis’s head in both hands and kissed her lips lightly.
“I want to be here with you, every day, so yes, of course I’m staying.”
“You really are staying?”
“Yes. Really.”
“No flips?”
“No, Ellis. I want Tuck’r to grow up and be the full-fledged inn it’s capable of, and I intend to run it. I’m not going anywhere for another turnaround project.” She paused when Ellis kissed her deeply. “Wow,” she whispered on a breath. “We need to do this lying down. Another one of those and my knees will give out.”
Ellis gathered her closer and kissed her ear. “Come with me.” She took Maggie’s hand and led her below to the bedroom. Retta followed with her bone. “Sit right here,” Ellis said and directed Maggie by the shoulders to sit on the side of the bed. Retta sat as well and dropped the bone with a clunk.
Unable to stop smiling, Maggie watched, fascinated, as Ellis cleared everything off a side shelf. Retta looked up at her, as if just as curious, and Maggie whispered, “I don’t know what she’s up to.”
“You’ll see,” Ellis said, and finally, she lifted the shelf and revealed a long, narrow storage bin. She pulled out a slender box and the cloth-wrapped object inside it.
“This,” she said, hurrying back to Maggie, “this is for you.” She knelt and placed it across her lap.
“Ellis? What’s this?
” She looked down at the burlap covering and back to Ellis as Retta sniffed the fabric. “You know, I have a gift for you, too. A special picture already wrapped you were supposed to get yesterday. It’s right where you left me the ro—”
Ellis touched Maggie’s lips. “No talk of yesterday or, God forbid, earlier today.” She stroked a finger along Maggie’s cheek. “Unwrap this.”
Maggie swiped away a tear and unwound the burlap. The back side of a long piece of wood appeared first, and she delicately turned it over.
“Oh, God! Ellis!” She flashed her a look that led to a stream of tears. “The quarter board! The-the Captain Joshua Pratt House quarter board.” Her fingers trembled as she caressed the aged lettering. “Oh, my…It’s the real thing, isn’t it?”
“Hand carved in eighteen fifty-five.”
“Ellis, I-I don’t know what to say. Oh, my God.” She stared at the lettering, the paint blasted away in many places by generations of Nantucket’s blowing sand and salty wind. Hefting the dry and cracked pine board, now light as driftwood, she shook her head in wonder. “This…this is history. Your history. God, I love you for this gesture, but it belongs to you.”
“No, Maggie. I failed my family, failed our house.”
“Damn it, Ellis. It kills me when you say that. You can’t think that way. You’re an amazing woman and you deserve this.”
Ellis shook her head and pressed a fingertip to Maggie’s chest. “You resurrected that house and restored its dignity. It’s your house now and this needs to come back home, hang inside somewhere it can be protected for another hundred years.”
“Now listen to me, Ellis Chilton.” She dabbed a tear from Ellis’s eye. “In a very special way, the Captain Pratt House belongs to us both.” She cupped her chin, leaned closer, and kissed her. “You need to come back home, too. Think about it—then say yes.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Ellis stepped out into the foggy September morning with a cup of coffee and let the gauzy sunshine warm her face and arms. She knew that, soon enough, the rising sun and tide would burn away the mist and withdraw the salt, right on time for a Sunday cruise to nowhere. The best kind of cruise. Maggie loved them as much as she did and delighted in scheduling a weekend morning or afternoon of boating as often as possible.
